I Wonder as I Wander [Taelian]

[Oliver]

33rd Ash, 4622



Leiden appeared to be the perfect location to stop for provisions, perhaps a nice rest stop, a good drink or meal before continuing his journey into the land. After all, he had no sense of direction on where he was going, left to starve by a mere selfish man of Lorien's culture. The truth was he didn't have to deal with his reckless behaviour. He should be thankful, but it was those bitter emotions of time-wasted that proved to be the most painful part of dealing with betrayal trauma. Upon thinking, he noticed a tavern that appeared to be open. The building appeared to be well managed, clean and tidy as Oliver stepped into the crowd.

He looked out of place wearing the white shirt and beige rose printed waistcoat that appeared to be Loric in style, followed by his long overcoat, leathery in quality. As he approached the barkeep, he noticed a man reading a newspaper. He was easy on the eyes, handsome, tall and well-muscled by his tall stature and the way his silken garbs accentuate every detail in his bicep. Although, it was rude to stare as he recalled some of the mannerisms from his childhood, so much that he decided to not engage for the moment as the tavern keep approached Oliver.

"What can I get you?" She asked politely.

"Just an ale, please..."

"Alright luv, what's brought you around 'ere ey?"

"Sightseeing I guess?"

"New to Radenor, aye? In that case you should head to Tilema, great festivals, y'know... Daughters a dancer"

"I heard it is very interesting around there, the hustle and bustle of those places."

"Aye, well enjoy yer ale, lad..." The tavern keep said as she placed his tankard on the side for him to claim.

"Thank you", He said assertively, before turning to the stranger at the side with his newspaper. It was somewhat odd that people often did that casually in bars besides Lorien, almost resembling the artistry of the Griscian Empire. He walked in his direction, not knowing that he had come forth into a collision with an odd passerby, his drink somehow had sloshed out of his cup, as it was hurled in the rich-looking man's direction. He gasped as he didn't realise the force of the collision "Watch where yer going!" He exclaimed

Oliver glared back at him as he appeared to be the one who walked right into him, thats until he turned to the man who appeared to be covered in ale. "Ops... I'm sorry about that, not many people have manners around here..." He said trying to lighten the mood, knowing that being sloshed by a complete stranger isn't the nice experience "Yet again, I've been to a few places that don't exactly have good cultural grounding, Daravin for instance... Piss a mage off there and you're fucked... Not in the nice way either, of course you'd have to wish that was the alternative, but hey, only one can dream eh?" He said, trying to make light of the situation he was in "So... Erm... You from around here by any chance?"

[Taelian Edevane]

Yawned, his eyes scanning over the pages of the paper: the Leiden Post, a local publishing he liked to read whenever he was in the city, if only to stay informed. It wasn't a particularly interesting read, most of the time, though the headlines that morning had caught his attention as he wandered the streets of Leiden's urban core. VESTRIA DEFEATS KRISH AT HINTERN. Despite the tension shared between Radenor's four Kyngdoms and one Principality, the victory against the Krish was spoken of with a degree of reverence and starry-eyed warmth. Vestria was far more Norunn than the horde of grass-colored invaders from another world, and the people of Jorikford were happy to celebrate the return of even a sliver more of ancient Norunn land.

As he eyed over the strategies employed in order to achieve that victory, like the arcane catapults lined with bile-Arcanacrags, he was within earshot of a conversation between a man who appeared to be Griscian (given his accent) and a typical, low-class Norunn woman. What followed, as the well-dressed man wandered to his seat, was a collision that ultimately led to the large man being drenched in ale. Taelian breathed out, exasperated, through his nostrils. His newspaper was soaked; his suit was marred brown, with even the collar of his shirt beneath stained with alcohol.

It smelled strong, too, and worst of all made him flammable. None of those things sounded pleasant.

Taelian's eyes immediately shot up, narrowing at the Griscian man, who was not at fault for the collision but seemed to use it as an opportunity to befriend him. Considering he'd noticed him looking at him before, he curled a brow, eyeing him almost suspiciously.

"Not in the nice way?" he repeated, chuckling beneath his breath and rolling his eyes. "I'm not from around here, no. I'm from Sil-Elaine, actually, but have lived in Lorien for the past... I don't know, three years or so," he said. It wasn't every day that he admitted to being from Sil-Elaine, but a part of what he enjoyed about being in Radenor was that it was so far removed from Lorien. No one here would care enough to courier that information to the Count of Kastran, or Duke Alderset.

"I'm Taelian," he said, eyeing his suit with some waning degree of displeasure. "And you, my Griscian friend?"

[Oliver]

The Griscian male looked flustered for a moment as the man directed his gaze towards him, as if seemingly suspicious; the obvious side-eye appeared to be a nervous twitch as he said rolling his eyes "It'll be rather risque and uncouth for me to explain the contents of what I mean by a 'nice way'" He added, seemingly wanting to forget the conversation. After all, finding the right words wasn't the man's strong suit when it came to diverging conversation.

As Taelian spoke mentioned he was from Sil'Elaine, Oliver began to relive his experiences from serving the Remedy, the pain, the suffering and the grotesque nature of the Dranoch's contagious blight began to haunt him as he saw millions of his comrades either being killed, tormented or turned into such vile and tormented creatures whose only purpose was to feed. Upon that, he seemed to have somewhat distorted memories from such horrific events, and yet he could still be called upon to serve if they needed him. The triggers were there, but Oliver had to silence them as he continued the conversation, regardless of the painful recollections of events he was experiencing.

"I'm Oliver, although friend is a term that's used when you've known someone for a long time. Acquaintance might be the right word you're looking for if I'm not mistaken" He spoke out, punctuating every word, phrase and sentence as his careful diamond cut accent soared his way. However, he appeared to wince at the ruination of the man's suit, noticing the rustic brown patch amongst the whiteness of his shirt "Forgive me, I did not mean for your suit to be ruined, it must've been very expensive knowing of your stature, I would offer you another shirt, but I don't think you're quite my size... Maybe too large..."

"I've lived in Lorien for a good three years, before things went south here, it's a sensitive subject but I'm here now so..." He shrugged as he moved his hands on the seat "Would you mind if I sit down?" He asked with a smile, until the crowd of rowdy taverngoers appeared to be playing a set of drinking games, it was almost a strange reminder if his youth as he turned his head towards them, rolling his eyes once again, before taking a sip of his own tankard, causing him to gag at the strength of the ale "What the fuck is this, tastes like a dogs bollocks." The Griscian man complained.

[Taelian Edevane]

He cleared his throat, the other man appearing to either disconcert him or otherwise... befuddle him, somewhere within his words. His insistence not to be called friend was one that confused Taelian, but he ultimately let it slide. Maybe, he thought, he was just irritated at the feeling of alcohol moistening his shirt, or staining his jacket. Clothes like what he was wearing were quite expensive and rare in Radenor, and that meant he'd likely need to go back to Lorien to replace it. He could do that easily enough through Resonance, but the other man did not know that, and so from Oliver's perception, he had a right to be annoyed.

"I don't mind you sitting down," he replied, coolly. "That's Ruma's House Special," he said, tipping his head towards the drink. He went here often enough that he knew the drinks; it was the same establishment that was around when he first met Thomas, back when he was an Ebon Knight living in the barracks of his local chapter. "Tastes disgusting, but gets you drunk like no other. Drink that entire thing and you'll be proper sloshed, trust me."

The man took another sip of his tea, continuing to read his beer-sodden paper as if nothing had happened to it. In truth, he could barely remember many of the words; continuing to read was more about the aesthetic of being unbothered.

"I'm not too bothered about the shirt, but the suit... well. I just hope Melina can clean off the stains," he muttered. "What was it that went so wrong for you in Lorien? You somehow perform an action that led to the domino effect of a Lord's suit becoming damaged? If so, I don't blame you for leaving. The bastards in my country," he said as if he were a native Loric man, now, "are known for their vengefulness. And yes: that's a veiled threat. I'm going to have to drench all of your clothes in alcohol, now, for my petty comeuppance," Taelian teased.

[Oliver]

He sighed, the taller male appeared to make him feel somewhat uneasy about the situation at hand, he decided to eventually sit down, leaning an elbow on the table, careful not to ensure that it's sturdyness wouldn't break. The man was probably more self-conscious about his clumsy nature than anything else, as soon as Taelian mentioned Ruma's House Special, he immediately stopped drinking. It was lucky it was only halfway full, or the Griscian man would've been intoxicated and vulnerable "Thanks for warning..." He said, hoping that none of the alcohol would take over his system.

He looked around curiously at the other tavern patrons, gaining a surrounding before turning his attention to the larger male once again "No, actually not... I chose to leave under heartbreaking circumstances, although we were here for a couple of days, and then well, let's just say he left me out on the cold. Fuck him and his pack of lies anyway..." He spoke with pure bitterness in his voice, as if his emotions were trying to come out, but the man's stoicism and confidence was the only thing that kept him going. The sheer hint of optimism he had was drawn on him by the survivalist instinct he had "I'll survive, even if you do decide my punishment is a keg of alcohol over my head." Oliver humoured Taelian, chuckling under his breath as his gaze shifts around the bar.

"Somehow though, I sense that supreme pettiness isn't your style, although I could be wrong" He stared at Taelian intensely for a moment, before shifting his gaze to the clock on the wall "I would offer to buy you a new suit, but my financial situation currently is dire, after all money doesn't grow on trees..." Oliver offered, trying to be as apologetic about the situation as he could. The Norunn woman shouted towards everyone in the bar as he turned his back to Taelian for a moment, "We're closing in an hour! Get yer rooms if you want them" She shouted, seemingly standoffish.

"Well, you heard them..." Oliver retorted

[Taelian Edevane]

As the wallflower that he was, it wasn't difficult for him to grasp the understated elements of others; to guess at their flaws, virtues, and traits. There was a lot he thought to assume about the other man, and some of what he assumed was surely right. Oliver was lonely, that much was clear. He was also freshly broken away from some other man, who had presumably hurt him in an untenable way -- at least to him. Taelian felt some degree of sympathy as they sat together and he eyed the other man across their small table, though through it all he still continued to drink and persist, listening to him with little comment of his own to add.

"You don't need to buy me anything," said the man, curling his lower lip. "In Lorien, I have a share of the products from the nationalized factories. Suits can be stitched by Hollows; something like a new one isn't a luxury commodity in my land, only in places like this. When I am available, I will step through a portal and retrieve another one from my limitless wardrobe at Ashvane. It is quite alright."

He sounded as if he was bragging, and he knew he did, but he wasn't. He was -- as always -- stating the circumstances, matter-of-factly. Rien people were spoiled, and he was no exception.

The lady proceeded to yell over him as he sought to continue his words, the man's features going blank for a moment before he retreated into the back of his chair, his back sinking into it. "Hm, alright. So: you want a room, or what? I'm presuming you're here because you want me to help you take your mind off of that 'lying' lout of yours, yes? I can do that."

He stood up from his chair, clearing his throat. "Broga, I'll have the large room in the back, third floor. Your fare still six farthings?" he asked.

"Aye, six," she replied, stepping over to his table to collect the sum owed. Taelian reached into his pocket and pulled out a few of those tiny, jade-colored rocklets, dropping them into her open palm.

"Wonderful," he said, straightening his suit-jacket as she walked away. "After you."

[Oliver]

The strange assertiveness of the Sil'Elainian man appeared to be one of the unnerving presences about him to Oliver, of course he knew certain gestures in different cultures were code for a much more tantalizing experience as the man delved into how rich he was. However, he seemed even more unnerved by the offer of a room and a place to stay. The man seemed reputable, but it was an odd experience with him being nice to him., even though he did ruin his suit by accident.

He blinked in confusion as he was offered company and the room, seemingly by the other male, of course he didn't mind sleeping out in the cold against a bunch of twigs. It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of sleeping spaces, but it was nothing. That's until he looked outside, noticing the rain falling; the dwindle of tear like droplets trickled down the window ledges onto the stone-cold pebble floor. On second thought, he did need the room, knowing that the Ashen rain was the coldest place for a man.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, noticing the man's gentlemenly posture "Well I... Was... Err." He stuttered out. He didn't know weither he should be panicked, nervous or humble about the room service that he was given. He was grateful, but it was strangely sudden. He didn't exactly ask for it did he? Or did he say something that was code? Either way, he couldn't afford to sleep out in the rain and accepted the offer gratefully as he made his way towards the room for a moment.

He assumed the larger male would have the key as he waited by the door, taking a quick glance at the male. It was nerve wracking to think that someone with power and prestige would fit the bill of being handsome, of course he wasn't the type who would be disrespectful, knowing that Griscian chivalry would go along way, perhaps it was way he came across to the man that settled him in for such a assertive tone embelished with an accompaniment of both common and gilded charm.

He blinked once again, trying to fathom out the man's notions and intent, still baffled by his attitude "Well, I was going to say, if it was easy getting a room by accidentally dousing a rich man in alcohol and sitting by him, then perhaps my luck has been savoured, provided that he's not going to kill me of course..." He chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling every hair stand up on his body; it was almost as if his body was going into some form of nervous panic as he would watch Taelian for a brief moment, opening his mouth as if he was hesitant to speak. "I'm grateful, but you didn't have to really, I might be in a terrible situation but theres no need to feel an ounce of sympathy for what I go through, after all it's a very trivial thing, people go through it, people deal with it in all kinds of different ways or they don't deal with it at all..." Oliver said in a nervous waffle of words, not wanting to sound disingenious, rude or seemingly taking advantage of the man.

However, he might have been overcompensating too much for his mannerisms, as if he was starting himself in a chaotic ramble. This was one of Oliver's deepest flaws, knowing that cultures across the world have customs, certain mannerisms and taboos to adhere to. The route to offense was always easy for some people.

[Taelian Edevane]

Taelian wasn't entirely sure what it was that Oliver wanted, and that became no more glaringly obvious than when they were standing in beyond the entry-door to the tavern room he'd rented for the two to stay in -- together, which was a piece the Griscian seemed to miss. He continued on as if it were an act of charity or generosity, like Taelian was housing a homeless soul and would leave after giving him a roof over his head. All of this was to say that he had been entirely wrong in his estimation of the scenario; he thought Oliver had orchestrated sitting by him to seduce him, but he actually just came up to him to talk. That changed things, to be certain.

"I see," he said, coolly, beneath his breath. "I'm going to be entirely upfront." Taelian stepped deeper into the room, lighting one of the lanterns before returning to the doorway to ensure it was locked behind them. He placed both hands on Oliver's shoulders, straightening him out so that they were staring face-to-face. "Considering you mentioned things like -- ah, you know -- being fucked 'in a good way' by the Entente... and kept looking at me... and were mourning how you were freshly single from another man... and how I ought to not miss my chance to get a room, well. I thought you were insinuating that you wanted me to fuck you, to be quite honest, and so that's why I got us this room. It wasn't necessarily out of the kindness of my heart, though I do feel sympathy for you, and do regret that you're in such a tough spot. In fact: you intrigue me, which is why I was willing to do any of this at all in the first place."

He cleared his throat, scratching his pelvis for a moment before letting out a low sigh.

"If I was wrong, then let's start over. I'm Taelian, and I'm not about to fuck you right now. Alternatively, we can eat and chat here, I suppose. You a mage, by the way? I swear a saw a tattoo on the back of your neck as we were walking, but I didn't want to pry, so I couldn't make it out. Just curious, I guess."

[Oliver]

Oliver felt somewhat overshadowed by the man, as he appeared to be straightened out by those strong arms of his, staring at him face to face. He blinked at him for a moment as he seemed to be shocked by his insinuation, he didn't know how to react. He was speechless, but perhaps that was his own fault; the way he worded it was somewhat misleading, but the Griscian didn't seem angry, infact it was almost humbling with the way that he was intrigued by something within him "Well, I don't know what to say really" He said, appearing to tense up as if he was seemingly uncomfortable, not because of the male, but because of the assertive and confident nature of the other man "I've never been good with words but, you seem intriguing yourself." He said with a chuckle, smiling at the taller male in front of him.

"Maybe you were wrong and that it wasn't my intention, I'm sorry if I mislead you there." Oliver answered as honestly as possible, knowing that he may want to open himself up to possibilities. After all, he was always a man who explored, even if the place feared him "I will say though, I am open minded, however." He said with a smile, trying to remain as calm as possible "You seem like a charming individual with a degree of respect, dignity, compassion and responsibility, but I usually prefer to take the high road when it comes to mutual relations, in other words I prefer to get to know people and understand them, to question if their motives are good or not, although I do prefer a man who knows the boundaries of trust. In other words, imagine a vase, it gets broken, you glue ot back together, but no matter what you do, it'll always be flawed." He reiterated a philosophical conjecture from one of his lecturers back on his homeland in the Commonwealth.

"I am a mage indeed, let's just say it was all a accident." He cleared his throat as he seemingly needed to explain the situation at hand, after all the man knew what he was, so it was probably best if he acted with compassion "Twelve years ago, I went on an expedition to Icheron, where we discovered various ancient sites of the indigenous people there, trying to record their histories, their language etcetera etcetera" He paused taking a deep breath.

"Disaster happened, our leader appeared to be seduced by some sort of cult on that island, we returned, but eventually we found ourselves shipwrecked, in which most of the crew got separated" He said, not wanting to give another sad sob story to the Sil'Elainian man "I ended up on the coast of Sil'Elaine, so if it hadn't had been for a passerby, I probably would've been dead, perhaps I'm the luckiest man alive..." He snickered to himself before frowned "Although lately, the liquid luck has run out, but I mostly did everything I did now because I thought it was right..."

"What about you?" He asked sitting down, crossing his leg "What's your story? How did you end up where you're at now..."

[Taelian Edevane]

He couldn't help but be amused by Oliver and his mannerisms, and even his contradictions. He wasn't trying to sleep with him, but he was open minded to the possibility, and he enjoyed and respected Taelian, and--

The man let out a long, hearty laugh. "Well, I'm not going to break your vase, obviously. I'm good with boundaries, and damn: you should commend me on how gentle and patient I am. I didn't bat a bloody eyelash after getting my nice suit drenched -- I'm still wearing it," he said, laughing a little more. "But, yes, I respect that. Truth be told I was actually looking forward to it as solace for my ruined suit, but -- we can get roughly the same experience playing chess, or something. Well, not even remotely similar, but... entertainment is transient and malleable. This conversation -- this spar -- is intriguing me enough right now, as it is."

He nodded along, listening to the other relay his stories; experiences he didn't expect, like a Griscian man shipwrecking in Sil'Elaine, and having to survive the Dranoch scourge. That didn't really answer which Mark of Control it was that he had, though, so instead of immediately going on to explain his own story, Taelian circled around him and slowly ran a few fingers to lift his hair, instantly taken aback by what it was that he saw beneath.

The Black Sigil.

"You're an Ebon Knight," he whispered, running his thumb over the Mark. To him, it was holy. It was Malek's sign, his blessing. It was something he missed, after his own Divine Spark had devoured it to feed its flame. Taelian circled back to meet the man face-to-face, bringing his fist to his own chest and peering down to offer the other a firm salute. "I am too. That's... my story. I was inducted into the Order, and then I was sent out into the world to kill the Dranoch Clans on the main continent. We failed, and now... I've shifted my focus to helping Lorien beat the Kindred, and--"

He was rambling; his story was too much to tell, in the moment. Instead, Taelian just stared blankly at the other man.

"Whatever you need, I will provide it to you, Brother. You have fought for my kind, so I will fight for you. Are you hungry--do you need anything?"